can we have a moment of silence

You will always have me. You can call me at midnight when the memories are hurting you, we will talk about the stars and appreciate the silence. I will stay up with you all night to talk about the things that bothers you. And if you want to escape at the moment, I will willingly give up my time to run away with you, even if it’s only a quick stroll across the town. I will be there when the world turns its back on you. I will hold you in my arms and stand up for you. I will always, always be right there for you, even if I’m not the one you needed.
—  d.r.n

You will always have me. You can call me at midnight when the memories are hurting you, we will talk about the stars and appreciate the silence. I will stay up with you all night to talk about the things that bothers you. And if you want to escape at the moment, I will willingly give up my time to run away with you, even if it’s only a quick stroll across the town. I will be there when the world turns its back on you. I will hold you in my arms and stand up for you. I will always, always be right there for you, even if I’m not the one you needed

Improper Evangelizing

Long context: In a 5e game, we’re being pursued on a carriage by a group of Fell bats in the middle of an undead siege on the city. The party has whittled it down to the last bat.

Our Paladin is the son of Bahamut, and must spread his religion to prove his worth to his father. To do this, a book has been created, and our Paladin wears a robe that will magically conjure one of the books every time he reaches into it and says the phrase, “Have I got a book for you!”

DM: The last Bat is still pursuing you. [Paladin], you’re up.

Paladin: Well, I don’t want to hold action again since my breath weapon is out. I’m going to try to evangelize the bat to my religion!

DM: It doesn’t understand common.

Paladin: Shit. Well, I guess I can throw a book at it.

*A moment of stunned silence as we all take in what he just suggested*

DM: (attempting to suppress his giggling) Okay. Roll a strength improvised weapon throw.

Paladin: I got… a 21 total.

DM: (giggling maniacally) That hits! Roll damage.

Paladin: 11.

DM: (trying not to laugh hysterically) You hear the voice of your father in your head, whispering “Use the book…”

Paladin: (dramatically) I reach into my robes, and shout the phrase “Have I got a book for you!”, and on ‘you’, I frisbee the book as hard as I can!

DM: The book has a beautiful curve to it, arcing gracefully through the rain, water cascading from its’ spinning surface. You watch as it moves and intercepts the bat, perfectly hitting it in the face, crushing its’ skull and killing it instantly.

Party: *bursts out into hysterical laughter*

Fighter: (me, imitating the DM’s Bahamut voice) [Paladin], you idiot! That’s not how you evangelize!

Paladin: (laughing and fighting back tears) I just wanted you to be proud of me!

Needless to say, our Paladin used his book to successfully convert many that night.

soften the blow. 12x13 coda. deancas. (ao3)

Cas picks up the phone halfway through the second ring. “Dean?” he says. “Is everything all right?”

“I love you,” Dean says. Cas inhales sharply on the other end of the line. “And I don’t have any bad news to follow that up with.”

“I–” Cas says. “What?”

“Getting real tired of people telling me that just to soften the blow,” Dean says. He hangs up, heart racing.

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Ask and ye shall receive!

what if Evan followed Conner and stopped him from killing himself? then they got together…. (sorry i’m tree bros trash)

((Don’t worry I am too))

“Fuck this, I’m outta here.” Connor crumpled the paper into his pocket and ran out of the library. Evan stuffed his laptop in his backpack and dashed out after Connor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Connor!” Evan yelled, running to the student parking lot to see Connor crying, leaning against the tree. “What are you doing?”

“What the fuck do you want, Hansen? You want more dirt on me to let people know I’m crazy? Well here’s the biggest piece of information I have–” he took out a pocket knife and held the blade to his arm. Evan’s eyes widened.

“Woah woah woah hey, wait!” He struggled, but managed to pull Connor’s arm away from the blade. Connor was weak, letting out wracking sobs.

“No one cares, no one would blink a fucking eye if I were gone.” Connor threw down the knife. “Everything’s always about Zoe. How perfect she is, how wonderful she is. Nothing I do ever matters.” He covered his face, falling down to the ground. Evan burned red from embarrassment.

“I didn’t–I don’t. I didn’t write the letter because you were in the library. I wrote the letter for therapy. They’re supposed to be little pep talks. Dear Evan Hansen, today’s gonna be a good day and here’s why. Zoe’s someone I look up to because she’s in jazz band and she’s pretty, yeah. But don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t be heartbroken if you were gone.” Evan said. The two were in Bio together and made snarky remarks about the teacher to each other. “B-before you say anything, I know how it feels to think that no one would care if you were gone.”

Connor sniffed. “You do?”

“How do you think I got this cast?” Evan stumbled over his words.

“You fell out of a tree, I got it. The saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” Connor winced at how snarky the comeback came out.

“No. I climbed a tree, a really, really tall tree.” Evan breathed in a laugh. “I looked down, and I let go. I wanted to die, but I have this six week reminder and scars all down my left side that I survived.”

“I-I’m sorry..” Connor said after a moment of silence. Evan shrugged, wiping away a tear.

“It’s in the past, I guess.” Evan whispered. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“You don’t?”

“Why would I? I’m the one taking medicine up the ass, and I fell out of a tree.” Evan laughed, making Connor chuckle. “I got some mad splinters though. Hey, if you can answer the door, we can order in a movie and a pizza, I don’t want you being alone tonight.”

“Oh you don’t have to–”

“I insist.” Evan grinned. “I can help you with your English, and we can watch something funny to keep your spirits up.”

Connor was already glad Evan helped make him decide to stay.

anonymous asked:

Peter wakes up from the coma (previous than canon) & nobody is there too take him in or shows him the ropes of life (shopping, rent, job) so the Sheriff steps up. perhaps to dim his guilt about the fire or to have a diversion from the death of Claudia. So they can be found weekly at the supermarket getting lectured by Stiles about healthy food, which is not chocolate


Peter doesn’t want them told. It’s childish, perhaps, but Laura and Derek left him. And then it turns out that telling them isn’t an option anyway, since they didn’t leave a forwarding address. So they can go to hell. They can go to hell

“Peter,” John says. “Stop saying hell around my son.” 

Apparently Peter has been muttering to himself again. He sighs, and looks down at the Stilinski brat, who is staring back up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, perhaps in anticipation of the next rude word to fall from Peter’s still-scarred lips. 

Since being released from the hospital Peter has become John Stilinski’s pet project. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s such a pathetic charity case, or because the deputy needs the distraction. Peter’s lost his entire pack, one way or another, but John’s just buried his wife. So they’re both pathetic charity cases, probably. 

Peter narrows his eyes at Stiles, and Stiles narrows his back, and then “accidentally” hits Peter with the shopping cart. 

“Stiles!” John exclaims. “Careful!” 

“Whoops,” says Stiles, unconvincingly. 

Peter hates the little brat. (A lie. In actual fact, Stiles reminds him a little too much of Cora. He’s a little smartass. It makes his chest ache.)

And yet, he hasn’t told John and Stiles to go to hell. He let John help him find a modest apartment, and to apply for a job as a filing clerk at the police station (he’s almost certain he was the only applicant), and he lets John and Stiles come with him on these weekly outings to the supermarket, so John can make sure he’s looking after himself, and Stiles can lecture him on how Lucky Charms are not a healthy breakfast food. 

The first time it happened, Peter made some comment to John about how that was a strange stand for a kid his age to take, and John had cleared his throat and looked away. 

“Claudia used to watch what we ate.” 

Ah. 

Stiles is just a little boy trying to fill a too-big space that was left by his mother’s death. 

“Peter,” Stiles says now. “Have you tried quinoa?” 

“Stiles,” Peter tells him seriously. “Haven’t I already suffered enough in this lifetime?” 

For a moment there’s dead silence and the three of them stare at one another in astonishment. Did Peter really just say that? 

And then Stiles bursts into laughter, and tosses a box of Twizzlers into the shopping cart. 

Peter thinks that means he’s won. 

The “Just the thought of Team Cap walking all over Tony makes me want to trash my room, I just want unashamed, biased, pro-Tony quality content, is that too much to ask??” inspired ficlet I’ve been holding back for a while:

Bitterness ahead, guys. Not Team Cap friendly. Nor is it particularly deep or rational. I just wanted to get a couple of thoughts out of my head. Basically Tony is done being the team’s sugar daddy, only it comes to light in a very roundabout way. 


“When are my arrows gonna be fixed anyways?” Clint grumbles, rubs a hand over his sore shoulder. The one that wouldn’t have gotten injured, had his shot hit the target it was supposed to. Which it should have, his aim had been fine. The problem were the arrows. Someone must have screwed up somewhere in the production because they weren’t perfectly balanced.

They’re sitting in the conference room at the (mostly) restored compound. Tony is tapping away on his StarkPad, not even bothering to look up. He must have felt the questioning glances and noticed the silence, but he still doesn’t react.

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t want to encourage the tension between them, things are bad enough as it is. If only Tony would put in some effort as well, instead of going out of his way to antagonise them, maybe they could make some actual progress.

“Yo, Stark!” Clint snaps, voice reaching that biting sharpness he reserves specially for the billionaire. “I’m talking to you!”

Tony shows no outward reaction, which is strange to see. Back when they first came back, he used to move at all times, sharp and erratic, never staying still. Steve shakes his head at their unnecessary power play.

Tony answers before he has the chance to reprimand them though. “How would I know?” he asks, a brief frown flittering across his face as he scribbles something down onto the tablet.

The outraged look on Clint’s face tells everyone present that this meeting won’t get back on track any time soon. It’s understandable, really. Clint has been forced to fight three battles with faulty equipment and frankly, the lack of concern Tony is showing for his team mates’ safety is nothing short of callous. Steve knows things haven’t been good between them but this is the first time he wonders if things could really be so bad, that Tony would hold necessary equipment back on purpose.

It’s a terrible thought, but try as he might, Steve isn’t able to shake it off.

At least the rising tension finally causes Tony to look up and meet Clint’s glare. He’s wearing sunglasses even though they’re inside, like he always does. Steve doesn’t like it. Makes it harder to read Tony, to tell what he’s really thinking. Absently, he admits that this is probably why Tony wears them so religiously.

“What do you mean ‘how would you know’?!” Clint snarls, enraged. “My arrows have been acting up for weeks and you still don’t know how to fix it?!”

Tony stares at Clint, the expression on his face unreadable. Then, after a long, long moment of heavy silence, the answer.

“I’m not fixing your equipment.”

For a moment, it’s deadly quiet, as Steve struggles to process the meaning of what Tony has just said.

“Tony,” Steve hastily inserts himself as soon as he finds his voice again, before Clint can throw himself across the room and deck him, “I know there are still some issues we all have to work through, but that’s not an excuse to-”

“Hold it right there, Rogers,” Tony interrupts. It’s never Cap, always Rogers these days. The pain the distinction causes still catches Steve by surprise more often than not. “I’m not sure where you get this from but I’m not your mechanic. I don’t work for you. So if Barton here has an issue with his weapons, he needs to take it up with the people in charge. Considering how often you remind me that it’s not me, you’d think you’d have figured that part out already.”

“But it’s not working!”

Tony sighs. The deep, heavy sort of sigh you usually expect from an exhausted parent after their insistent child asks, “Are we there yet?” for the 34th time. “Then take it up with the quartermaster. Or Agent Hudson. Or one of the techies. Seriously, Barton, you signed the Revision. Who’s responsible for what is right in there, section 12 to 17. Besides-” he pauses.

“What are you waiting for? Go on!” Clint demands between gritted teeth, hands curled into tight fists. Thankfully, he’s not throwing anything. Yet. “Don’t get shy with me now!”

Tony straightens in his seat. Steve inwardly sighs. That man has never been able to let a challenge go unanswered.

Besides,” Tony continues, voice still surprisingly even, “chances are they’re working just fine.”

“You think I can’t tell when my bow isn’t fucking working the way it should?” Clint bristles.

The words actually cause Tony to lower his sunglasses for a moment, just to make sure there is no doubt about how stupid he believes Clint to be. “I’m saying you’re operating with a standard bow, Barton. The fabric and the construction limit the performance quality. Something I’m sure an experienced archer like yourself has picked up on.”

And yes, things are definitely getting ugly. That level of glacial cold in Tony’s voice is rarely achieved, even now.

“The why the fuck did you build a subpar bow?”

Tony sighs again. “You’re missing the point. Seriously, I can not believe we’re even having this conversation. I did not build that bow, Barton.”

And that’s–that’s a surprise.

Tony’s gaze trails over them all, taking in their confused, shocked expressions. “Really?” he asks, exasperation dripping from every syllable. “Did any of you even read the Revision? The Avengers’ are an official unit. Their weapons and uniforms can’t be provided by a private party, especially not one who is part of the team. Have you ever heard the term conflict of interest?”

“What about Stark Industries?” Natasha asks. From the furrow in her brows though, Steve suspects she already knows the answer–and doesn’t like it one bit.

“I’m not sure if you noticed,” and now there’s no mistaking the mocking in Tony’s tone, “but SI doesn’t sell weapons anymore. It was kind of a big thing, couple of years back.”

“But- But yours are better!” Clint splutters. It sounds plaintive and weak, even in Steve’s ears, but at the same time he knows what Clint’s struggling to say. It’s not about getting your toys taken away. It’s about their safety and efficiency in the field. On bad days, it’s about the survival of their entire planet.

“I can’t believe you would risk the teams’ lives and safety like this because of a petty argument,” Steve says, unable to keep quiet any longer, nor bothering to hide the honest disappointment.

Tony, unimpressed as always, simply snorts. “You’re an official unit, but before that you’ve been working for SHIELD for years. Did you ever have the very best equipment mankind was capable of providing at the time? No,” he answers his own question in a breeze, “you didn’t. Why? Because you’re agents, soldiers. And sure, the government wants to protect us, wants to keep us alive and make sure our missions succeed. But they have limited funding, which means everyone has to deal with the best cost-efficient option available. If you’ve got the right connections to get something more, then lucky you, but that makes you an exception, not a rule.”

“You don’t need to explain real life to me!” Clint snaps aggravated.

“Then why do you feel entitled to something better?” That question, sharp and cutting, makes the archer still, his mouth open but with no retort forthcoming. Tony is blinking at him now, head tilted sideways in child-like curiosity.

“Of course, if I, as a private citizen, decided to build something that doesn’t violate any laws and give it to a friend as a gift, that would be something else, wouldn’t it?” Tony continues after a moment, voice softer now, but no less cutting. His eyes are fixated on Clint, sunglasses pushed back, eyes dark and unmoved. “The average update would take me what, a week or two? That’s a lot of time to invest into a single project, especially when the ultimate use is so limited. How many people can possibly profit from improved protective vest versus how many people improve from an exploding arrow is a really fascinating comparison to make.”

“So you see, Barton, even if I could improve your bow, there’s no logical reason why I should waste my time like this.”

“Tony!” Steve interrupts, scandalised. “Clint’s life depend on his aim! Our lives depend on it! How can you justify not providing him with the most basic necessities.”

Tony doesn’t even try and look abashed, instead he throws his head back and laughs. “This is how you want to play it, Rogers? Because I’m rich and a genius, I owe it to you to devote my time, attention and money to bettering your lives? What about the seven billion other people on this world? Don’t they deserve the same consideration, hm? What makes you so special that I should put your needs before anything else?”

Steve opens his mouth, but Tony doesn’t give him a chance to speak.

“I tell you what this is: this is you realising I’m no longer spoiling you rotten because you are in fact not my kids and I can cut you off whenever the fuck I want. And you don’t like it. Because guess what, I may be privileged, but so are you! You’re heroes, most of the time, as far as the world is concerned. You’ve been living off my money and resources on top of that. You’ve always gotten special treatment and you like that. You’re as far detached from the ‘ordinary man on the street’ as I am, you just don’t have the self-awareness to fucking notice!”

Tony sends them a sardonic smile that does in no way take the sting out of his words. “Don’t worry,” he says, “you’ll still be special. It’s just no longer my name footing that bill. Because we’re not friends. And as a business man, I’m not at all sorry to tell you that you simply aren’t worth investing into.”

And with that he stands, all blinding press smile, sweeps around dramatically, and strides purposefully out of the room. The automatic door closes noiselessly behind him, but he might have as well slammed it shut for all the difference it would’ve made.

It’s likely not a coincidence, that on their next mission Spiderman, Vision and Miss Marvel all showcase new, incredibly features and weapons that can’t have been created by anyone else. And it’s impossible to know for sure, what with the mask on, but Steve is one hundred per cent certain that Spiderman is smirking at them.

He is not wrong.


Let me know what you think? And please excuse any mistakes, I’ll re-read this tomorrow. Also this is the last post for today. I’m tiredtiredtired now and think I’ve spread enough bitterness for the day. And spammed your dashes with enough endless posts probably…oops.

The Industry

Summary: Your high school sweetheart has a provocative career, of which you’re having a difficult time adjusting to. Pornstar AU- Bucky Barnes is an adult film star
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Characters: Female Reader, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson
Word Count: 2.3K
Warnings: Explicit subject matter and cursing

| Feedback is very much appreciated | Masterlist |

“Cut!” The harsh yell of Justin Hammer, the middle-aged director of this hell, boomed through the spacious production studio. “James, great job as always. Tasha, we’re going to have to shoot that close up again.” He rises from his chair, crossing his arms. “You keep moving out of the light, and we need you to stay in it so we can get a clear shot of those famous tits of your’s.”

You stand alongside other crew members, watching the muscular back of the blue-eyed man flex as he moves from between the redhead’s legs his mouth had be working on seconds ago. Natasha’s glossy, bare body moves gracefully as she rests into a sitting position. Her eyes look frustrated as she blinks in motion with her soft pants. You watch as Natasha and Bucky share a quick exchange of a particular look, one that only could be shared between people who’ve been working in this industry for awhile. A look you could never understand.  

Hammer strides over to a set of screens, all replaying Bucky’s oral actions and Natasha’s moans on repeat. He stares at the two actors in their field for a handful of minutes before turning back towards the pair who are now standing side by side in satin navy robes. “Let’s take a twenty-minute break, I need to sort out this lighting problem.” He turns back to the screens, muttering instructions to the group of people around him. 

Your eyes peek at the monitors, lingering on the messy head of long, dark hair that rests between the long-legged redhead as his tongue swirls around the slick core of the woman. A sharp pain shoots from within your chest, your eyes glued to the daily horror of your boyfriend having sex with another woman. 

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Heart on the Line (part 4)

Masterlist

You and Bucky had your differences in college, but now you need a place to stay and he needs a roommate, and in order to make ends meet, you two start a phone sex line together.  

“For a Good Time, Call…” AU


author: sugardaddytonystark (formerly buckysbackpackbuckle)
pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
word count: 1433
warnings: phone sex

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shadows pt. 1

pairing: reader x Hoseok, OT7

genre: vampire!au, angst, implied smut, mentions of violence

word count: 5,780

synopsis: you thought that the death of your maker would lead to freedom from chains, but little did you know that bonds are much harder to break after death.

A/N: I have to thank @2seoke for helping me brainstorm almost this entire series and @jeonjagiya for helping me with historical fact checking

Originally posted by yoonqipd

read the first installment of the Ashes Trilogy here

“I love you, Hoseok” you murmured, feeling a sense of content for the first time in months.

He smiled, “I love you too” He nodded towards the sunrise, “Take in your last few moments. We don’t have much time before the sunlight will reach us.”

You nodded, turning your attention back towards the painted sky. You wanted nothing more than to run out and feel the sun’s rays. To soak your skin in sunlight, but this was enough. It was more than enough.

 “I’m ready” you tell Hoseok, turning around and lacing his fingers with yours. “Where to now?”

 “We can go anywhere you want to go, just give me a name.” he smiled, leading you back into the darkness.

 The two of you walked in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence. You tried to think of where you wanted to go, but you didn’t care. As long as you were with Hoseok, nothing else mattered.

 But your partner froze next to you, staying still for a split second before he pinned your body against the damp tunnel wall. He covered your mouth with his hand before you had any chance to question his sudden behavior. There was a flash of panic in his eyes as he stared at you when a woman’s voice rang out through the darkness.

 “Jung Hoseok, I always told you to be careful of what’s hiding in the shadows”

 He stood between you and the woman, a deep growl emitting from his chest as the two of them stared at each other.

 "It’s nice to see you haven’t changed much,“ she smiled wickedly. She was almost beautiful, in a terrifying way. Her wild red hair framing a pale freckled face. Her black eyes laced with unspoken evil. There was something about her that made your cold blood freeze.

"What the hell are you doing here?” Hoseok hissed, pushing himself further against you like a shield.

The woman cocked her head to the side, “Don’t you miss me, Hoseokie? It’s been what, almost 700 years since the last time we’ve seen each other? I certainly wasn’t expected to be greeted with such hostility, especially since you seem to have company.”

“Go to hell!” Hoseok snapped, spit flying from his lips in between the syllables.

The vampire held up her hands, “I think you’re misunderstanding me Hoseok. I don’t want to hurt you. I was just trying to pay my old friend Kai a visit,” her eyes flickering onto yours as she spoke, “But it seems like he’s no longer at that address.”

You could feel Hoseok telling you to keep your mouth shut, to not antagonize the vampire in front of you. But he should know by now that you’re a terrible listener, “I can send you his ashes in a box, if you would like.” you quip, flashing the vampire a sarcastic smile.

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Hard To Tell - Jeff Atkins/Reader

chapter 6: confession

word count: 1890

tagged list: ( i have to work on this,, again )

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 ( you’re here! )

When you went to school the next day, you received stares. Does that come as a shock? When you were rifling through your locker, two hands were placed on your hips.

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Songbird-Ch.3

Mystic Messenger Mafia AU

║ch1║║ch2║║ch4

Word Count: 1,350

~I had to split this chapter up for lengths sake! But here you guys go! ^^ This one wasn’t graphic, but the next one will be.

“Plot? In MY FIC? It’s more common than you think”…lolololol


     He was an old man. His clothes were visibly worn and in his leathery hands he held a tattered piece of cream colored paper. His milky eyes searched the walls as he walked, admiring the paintings and moldings, the various vases and art pieces.

     Without even the slightest creak from them, he walked through another set of large wooden doors that were opened for him, and into the room where he faced three young men. He coughed a bit as he inhaled cigar smoke, coming from the youngest man. Just a boy, in his eyes, with red hair peeking from underneath his cap as he sat leisurely in a chair on the side of the room.

     Closer to the desk sat a well-dressed man. His suit must have been worth more than the he made in a year, the old man thought. His leg crossed over his other, and a look of interest on his face as his eyes tracked the man’s walk towards the desk.

     His hands were shaking at seeing the Don. He sat in a large leather chair behind a mahogany desk. His suit was white and contrasting against his blue hair and eyes. The eyes that were dull but searching the old man in a serious manner.

     The old man made his way slowly to the side of the desk. On weakened knees he began kneeling down and kissed the back of the man’s palm before standing up and taking a few steps back. The Don’s face remained calm and unyielding.

     “Why have you come to me, today,” he asked the old man.

     While his voice was soft, it was surprisingly commanding. His right hand was caressing his thick cane like a habit as everyone stared at each other in the quiet room. The old man suddenly felt light headed at the realization of where he was at.

     His calloused fingers shakily held out the paper to the Don, before being snatched up by the dark haired man at his side.

     “You did not meet us as first ordered in our first letter. Do what you please. It is immaterial to us, money or death. If you want to save your life, tomorrow have $1,000 ready. Two men will go to present themselves to you. You will give not less than $1,000. Thus you may stop us from persecuting you as you have been adjudged to give money or life. Woe upon you if you do not resolve to buy your future happiness, you can do so by giving us the money demanded…otherwise we will set fire to you or blow you up with a bomb. Consider this matter well, for this is the last warning I will give you,” the dark haired man read, “at the bottom of a page is a black hand drawn above a coffin.”

      The room was thick with silence for a moment. Even the red haired man had pulled the cigar from his mouth and finally sat up straight in his chair to listen in. V did not seem phased.

     “And what would you like me to do,” V asked the old man.

      “I have been loyal to you for many, many years…I am old. The convenience store I run is enough to feed my family, but…I can’t afford to pay this money! Who could? I have a daughter…grandchildren, all dependent on me. Please…Don V…have mercy on me and my family. Help us…” his eyes are welling with tears as he speaks, but he does not cry.

     “This is the first time you have come to me for help. You have never invited me to your home for coffee…”

     “What do you want of me? My home is yours. My business is yours, please…” the old man pleaded through weak breaths and shaking hands.

     “You want our protection,” V states.

     “You understand everything, Don V,” the old man grovels.

     “If you are offering your friendship…your enemies are my enemies. Our enemies…My men will make sure you are safe. They will fear you, as they do us,” he explained with an unchanging and hard face.

     “Please. Accept me…be my friend. I want nothing more than your friendship,” his voice cracked a moment but he bowed nonetheless and brought the Dons hand into his own, bringing it to his forehead.

     V nodded in agreement as they brought the old man out by his arms at first, before gently guided him out of the room.

     “You will owe me,” V called to him in a flat tone of warning.

     When the man had disappeared from sight, Jumin stood up from his chair and placed the letter down on the desk in front of V.

     “We should get to the bottom of this as soon as we can,” he explained.

     Elizabeth 3rd had jumped from his lap with a meow and trot across the floor, jumping up into V’s lap. Though his face was unchanging and unmoving, he pet her with his free hand as he leaned in the chair.

     “I’m aware, thank you,” he nodded.

     Saeyoung had removed the cigar from his mouth and stood up to pace the room. Though V had seemed calm, he was worried. No one had ever challenged their territory before. Families knew to stick to their own sides and keep to themselves. His brain was working in overdrive trying to imagine who could have the balls enough to challenge them. Had he ever seen the symbols before? No, if he asked around enough, perhaps someone would be familiar…

     “Who do you want to me assign to this,” Saeyoung asked.

     “Whomever,” V waved his hand, “who do you trust most?”

     “Lucky and…Kitten,” he scratched his head as he thought about it.

     Jumin, who had been taking a peek outside the blinds behind V’s desk, flooding the room with light before he stopped to face Saeyoung, stepped away. His face was full of concern but V still seemed stoic and unmoving.

     “Kitten, hm,” he asked with a cynical chuckle, “you’ve been getting closer to that one. Any particular reasoning?”

     “I’d tell you, if it were any of your fucking business,” Saeyoung shrugged with a smile. 

     They were in a stare down across the room. Only the jingle of Elizabeth’s collar could be heard in the silence. Even the body guards had left them to their privacy.

     “I believe it is. Since where you put your dick affects this organization-“

     “Enough!” V commanded.

     Both of them jumped as his cane smacked down on the wooden desk with a loud snap. Each of them quieted down, awaiting his next words. V couldn’t stand either of their bickering. It made it hard for him to call on them both at the same time. And he needed them both. V was quiet, his mind rampant with thinking about what would be coming in the next several weeks. Though he remained calm and silent about the inner workings in his mind, he knew it was going to be tough times ahead. The ominous feeling swallowed him like quicksand.

     “Saeyoung, what are you waiting for? Get going,” V said sternly before he watched Saeyoung leave the room in haste. He took note of the annoyed scoff he made in Jumin’s direction before he left.

     V stood from his chair and headed for the drink cart at the side of the room. His cane tapped slowly in front of him with each step. His sight wasn’t completely gone. In fact, he considered himself lucky he could see as much as he did.

     “It’s getting worse, isn’t it,” Jumin remarked, his tone had a hint of pity laced within.

     “You have to help Saeyoung. He’ll be head of the family soon…I can’t have you two at each others throats like this,” he sighed.

     “V-“

     “Jihyun,” he cut Jumin off, “we are alone now, after all,” he replied with a smile.

     “Jihyun…I’ll do my best. I’ll advise him the best I can. But shouldn’t you tell him?” Jumin asked sincerely.

     “In due time…thank you, old friend,” V took a sip of his drink.

I run Pathfinder, with a group of 5 friends. Wrath of the Righteous AP.

Context: The Paladin of Iomedae has been zealous about Unholy symbols, Rushing to Destroy them the moment their found. The Dread And Sacred Necromancer have been trying to get one to use for bluffing with.

[Right after fighting with Five cultists of Baphomet]

Paladin [OOC]: Are there any Unholy Symbols?

DM: Yes all of them have one.

Paladin[OOC]: I go to destroy them.

Dread: [Paladin] can we keep one?

Paladin: No! None may remain!

Dread[OOC]: Can i try to pickpocket one?

DM: Since [Paladin] hasn’t seen them yet, yes. you will need to roll for Sleight of hand while [Paladin]] rolls perception to notice you.

[Dread got distracted so Paladin rolled first]

Paladin[OOC]: [Rolls 6] well i didn’t see anything.

Dread[OOC]: [Returns and rolls 4] …………….

Party: “Stunned silence for a moment”….. OOOOHHHHHH!!

Paladin: I SAID NO!!!! 

Paladin[OOC]: i B**** Slap him.

DM: Ummm… ok. You’re wearing a gauntlet right?

Paladin[OOC]: Yeah…. so?

DM: Roll for Damage with no weapon.

Party: [Almost collectively] Uh ohh! [they all stare waiting for the result.

Sorcerer[OOC] this could knock him out

DM: yeah but it’s the end of the session, you can just drag him back to the last safehouse you found in the city.

Dread[OOC]: the suspense is killing me……..

Paladin: [Rolls 7] NO MEANS NO!!!

DM: ….. so close “sigh”

My Fake boyfriend Part 8

Summary: After receiving a very rude letter of your ex on the mail saying that he is going to get married. You see yourself not knowing what to do, you can just let it go or accept the help of your hot neighbor and pretend he is your boyfriend.

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2910

Warnings: Just fuffly and maybe some aganst

Thank you @drinkfantasy you are the best

Originally posted by seabasschino

Before the war Bucky always liked kids and always imagined having a few of his own. But now? Kids were usually afraid of him and the ones that weren’t afraid, their parents wouldn’t let they get close. Bucky knew how much you liked kids and seeing you with your nephew at dinner last night warmed his heart.  

During the dinner you kept doing silly faces to Julian and telling him little secrets. This opened something in his mind that he never thought that he would have again, the possibility of a family.

You were so happy yesterday and he wanted to make you happy even that he was terrified. After your mother left the room, you pull him into a tight hug “We are gonna have so much fun.” You whisper in his ear, he can feel how excited you are and somehow this makes his fears disappear.

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